Twenty fifth
by Meadowlark12
Summary: 2019 ended 5 minutes ago and I was supposed to upload this then. Let's pretend this was yesterday. ADDEK's bit of their 25th year anniversary.


**_A/N: HAPPY 2020 Addek Nation! _**

**_I was supposed to upload this brief briefest bit earlier this month and life happened, as life does. _**

**_And for their memory's sake! I'm catching up right now in the middle of all celebrations. _**

**_Still. Happy addek tidbit._**

* * *

**Two thousand nineteen**

Her fingers wrap around his wrist.

When he looks at her, his eyes shimmer. His own glow that never ceased to amaze her, maximized by the flickering reflection of the flame. It makes her grateful for reacting just in time.

Against her thumb, his steady pulse beats. Always unaltered, her charming husband.

Except when he's not. Which is often because she likes to get on his nerves. So, perhaps not always but if she compares him to her, his calm beats hers.

She takes a note to self: don't ever let him know he wins at that game.

He's still waiting for her to say something but he doesn't seem to mind for the pause, so he joins her in the couch.

She's smiling at him while she finds the most practical way to explain her inner turmoil, somewhere between the sound of her own deep breaths, the soft hum of the heat, every possible feeling she's experienced since they met, his laughter in between and every type of moan she's muffled in his neck for all reasons but right now she can only think of the best ones.

"It's the last one."

His chin slightly tilts as a question, he's fluent reading her mind but she's aware of the lack of sense.

"If you put the candle out, we'll end up without lights on and it means today's over." She lifts a finger before he replies. "I know it's past midnight and I sound crazy."

Derek shakes his head and reaches for her chin to ease down her lower lip with his thumb.

"There's moonlight, Addie." His smirk quickly erased by her hand pushing his face away.

"Don't get poetic, I hate you!" She chuckles knowing he's still waiting for her to explain but she will when there's a way to explain how annoyingly swoon she feels in a comprehensible manner.

She stops him when tries to approach the candle again.

"What is this? Since when are we afraid of the dark?"

"I-" She breathes and pushes him back when he playfully pecks her lips. "I'm trying to tell you!"

"Try harder, I'm not following."

"I loved today."

"Good."

"I feel-" she's suddenly having to withhold from crying. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"We're not going anywhere- wait," he says when she makes a face of frustration, the eyeroll he provokes when he's being too literal or too metaphoric and she feels like they can't communicate. When they both know it's mostly his teasing. "I mean that we as us, are not going to end after today, or after...ever, Addie."

"I know that."

"Good."

"But, no. Derek!" she laughs and stops him once more. With her leg now, which he settles on his lap when he seats back. "It's the, uh, the dancing of the flame."

"Candlelight, Dr. Shepherd." he clears.

She nudges his ribs with her foot but thinks better of it when he threatens to tickle it.

"Shut up."

"I'm not saying anything." he says against her lips and watches her lean back, her back pressed into the cushions of the comfy couch they bought before Robin was born, they learned the lesson with their first baby and weren't risking ruined leather again.

"I just really like how you look in the candlelight and I don't want to forget that so that's why I wish it were forever and that's why I don't want you to put it out."

"Is that what this is? You like my face in this light?"

"Do you mind?"

"I actually don't but you could've saved us a banter."

"When would I ever?"

"Candlelight, then." he pulls back to study her face. She lets him.

He slowly nods. "It's nice."

"Right?"

"It's the… flickering effect. It, uh, comes and goes." he waves his hand over her face. "And the sort of- the golden light." He narrows his eyes and pushes down a smile. "Addie, I've seen it before." He gently adds.

At her raised eyebrows in question, he whispers his thought. "We've dined at tables with candles-" and not only then, he doesn't need to close his eyes to remember her close to a lit cake each of their shared birthdays, teaching their children to make a wish before blowing them out, when she tunes out of a long day in a bath, when he can't look away if she's mad at him for being late at events. He could've named them all moments where he'd just notice she was beautiful. That it was just a flinch of remembrance.

It was the candlelight.

Softening sharp contours, making her lips rosier and brightening her eyes.

He holds her away for a second. "Is that-" He pays attention to confirm his hearing. "-rain?"

She mimics his focus, "You think it's a sign?"

"A tribute!"

"Why would we get tribute for _that_ part out of everything else?" That part, Seattle tainting the meaning of rain when they wanted it to. With a bit of gratefulness for drawing the start up line to the rest of it all.

"I think…" he beams at her to soften his words in case she's defensive about it.

Like she always has and they always have. Their entire life as they know now built around that, high and wide enough that they would never need to look back if they could help it.

_We're moving back?_

_Her eyes were wide and her grin was more._

_He remembers taking the tickets from her trembling hands, afraid she was going to rip them._

_That's how their 13th anniversary was also their first in this place that is the only home their children know._

"We wouldn't be here if we hadn't gone there."

"Can we please, uh- celebrate properly?"

"A true gentleman." She could say more but there'll be more time to tease.

This time when he tries to put the candle out, she lets him.


End file.
